Tea and Coffee
by quiliis
Summary: James Potter spent a lot of his time in Charms wadding up little pieces of parchment and throwing them at people. Not everyone, mind you; some people were complete wastes of parchment.
1. I Thank Merlin & Morgana

_A/N:_ I don't own Harry Potter. Only Dela. This idea has been stuck in the back of my mind and I thought I'd like to air it out. Five reviews would be nice :)

* * *

 _Mid-October 1975_

Ever since his first year, James Potter spent a lot of his time in Charms wadding up little pieces of parchment and throwing them at people. Not everyone, mind you; some people were complete wastes of parchment.

No; this was _his_ hobby.

 _Fold, tear, crumple, target, throw, repeat._

 _Fold, tear, crumple, target, throw, repeat_

Its rhythm was ridiculously therapeutic.

 _Fold, tear, crumple, target, throw, repeat._

 _Fold, tear, crumple, target, throw, repeat._

What made it perfect was that it _always_ got a rise out of Evans.

She sat a few rows in front of him, diagonal to his left, so she could always turn to her right and glare at him over her shoulder. James only smiled winningly and continued to throw his parchments balls.

The next target was going to be terrific.

He had chosen Dela Bautista, a fellow fifth year in his House. Short like her temper, Dela was a Prefect that actually did her job. A bit of a killjoy, really, but someone had to do it; Remus wasn't planning on being responsible any time soon.

James didn't really consider Bautista a friend, per se, but somewhere between that and a Housemate. Different from someone in his House, like Dora Stewart or Frederick Bitters.

James could count on one hand how many conversations he'd had with the both of them combined.

Dela was a touch different.

He'd consistently had a History of Magic with her for the past four (and now going on five) years, and.. _maybe_ Transfiguration? He couldn't remember. She'd pop into his Defense class every so often to run errands for other teachers, too. She was odd. James wasn't sure if she was a Muggleborn or not, but he knew Dela worked so damn hard to…he didn't know, _prove herself_ , or something. Whatever it was, she made these amazing study guides that somehow found their way into James's possession before exams. So he knew Dela wasn't a complete idiot.

She was cute, too. In an oddly wild way that was hard to ignore. Short, messy dark hair. Large, expressive brown eyes. And it kind of sounded weird, but she had a mouth that could only be described as pretty (even though Remus often told him the words that came out of it were anything).

James chose Dela because he'd had no idea how she'd react.

She wasn't really quiet, but just seemed to lack emotion.

She always looked... _bored_.

In fact, James had seen Dela smile exactly seven times (he didn't remember if this was all year or just the past four years he'd known her). They were all closed mouth smiles.

Once, though, as if in a dream, James had seen Dela angry.

It happened last year and it had obviously been Sirius's fault. It killed him that he couldn't remember the exact incident that triggered Dela's outburst, but there'd been a whole shebang. Dela had gone off and tried to hex Sirius into oblivion, using spells James hadn't ever heard before.

What was better was that the whole thing had all happened in the Great Hall. _Deliciously_ public.

James could understand why birds loved gossip.

Unfortunately, McGonagall had broken up the two and called them to her office to sort it out. James figured the Thing must've been extremely personal, for It only caused a net loss of one hundred Gryffindor House points (fifty each, he assumed) and Dela didn't get a Howler because McGonagall believed her reaction was justified.

That, or James's theory that Dela was a Muggleborn was true and her parents had no idea what a Howler was.

But James did know one thing: whatever happened was going to be fantastic.

He could barely contain his excitement, so pleased with his own plan of havoc.

 _Fold_. He wanted to make clean tears in his parchment.

 _Tear_. Rectangular, rather than square, pieces worked best.

 _Crumple_. James made sure this part was extra quiet.

 _Target_. He focused on Dela's dark-haired head, directly in front of and below him in the stacked seats of the Charms classroom. He was ready.

 _Throw_.

The throw was so perfect the ball of parchment had a spin to it.

A _spin_!

James Potter sat literally on the edge of his seat, anticipating the moment the parchment made contact with Dela's head. Lily, despite all of James's efforts to be discreet, had turned at the sound of him tearing the parchment. She'd watched James complete his entire ritual.

 _What a prat_ , she'd thought. _A smug little toerag. Who does he think he is, honestly? Quidditch superstar. More like Quidditch fool. I wonder what poor idiot's his new target today._

Snake-eyed, Lily continued to stare judgmentally. She didn't understand his fascination with parchment waste. Parchment was hard to come by in the Muggle world. And real paper wasn't the same, compared to it.

But when Lily realized who James intended to hit his parchment ball with, her eyes widened rapidly. Her mouth slightly ajar, they watched the parchment ball soar through the air—

—and land neatly, right in front Dela.

 _Damn it_ , James thought. _Why didn't it hit her head, or at least her shoulder?_

She'd been taking notes. Her quill paused, and both James and Lily waited on abated breath. They saw her open the crumpled ball. But she did not turn to see who had thrown it. Instead, she picked up her quill again.

She began to write a little note.

When James turned around, he saw Lily was glaring at him. He marveled at how she could be so pretty when she was angry.

And then Lily's gaze shifted to something fast approaching. James followed her line of sight and saw that a little beige hummingbird was zooming about the room.

It was a genuine wonder that no one else noticed it. That, or everyone was sleeping. James caught its eye and the hummingbird made a beeline for him. It flew quite fast, not even stopping when it—

bounced off James's forehead.

It surprised Lily so much the redhead had laughed rather loudly before she could control herself. James tried to look indignant, but inside he was glowing.

He returned his attention to the parchment hummingbird. Dela had written something on it. A note, perhaps. Whatever it was, James knew he had to read it. It was a bit odd, though. It was like unwrapping a dead bird.

The neat little creases and folds were numerous. James was impressed with Dela's Charm work; it was meticulous, and well done.

Finally, in flourishing, feminine print: _Why are you like this?_

The words surprised him.

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Was she asking why he was like a hummingbird? James didn't think he was like a hummingbird at all. A kestrel, maybe, or a falcon, but not a hummingbird. Or was Dela just questioning his personality in general? Did she mean to imply he was small and flighty? James looked up indignantly, clearly distressed. But Dela still hadn't turned around.

If she had, James would have seen her smile for the eighth time.

* * *

Binns had excused himself to search for a map he'd somehow misplaced in the previous class period. As soon as he'd floated through the wall to begin his search, the class had erupted into moderately loud chatter.

And she was sitting. Right. There.

It wouldn't take much to ask her. A polite tap, or a whisper. Most girls responded well to either. To him, anyway.

"Hey."

No response.

Dela continued to stare straight ahead. She used to take notes, but figured out sometime in first year that she had a knack for History and only half-listened.

Later, though, she would do her thing and The Study Guide would appear: thorough and neat, duplicated if you asked her. And you _had_ to ask her. If you tried to duplicate it yourself, you'd end up with a roll of parchment with only a moving cartoon of an elegant hand flipping up its middle finger repeatedly.

At least she had a sense of humor.

"Hey. Hey, Bautista."

Finally, she turned around. Dela did not smile. The only marker of emotion James got out of her was one raised, dark brow. For some reason, James was briefly reminded of Sirius.

He opened his mouth and then realized…that he actually hadn't expected to get this far. James was, for once in his life, at a loss for words. Not wanting to look the complete fool in front of her, James reverted to a greeting before he could stare at Dela too long with his mouth open.

"Hi."

The right corner of Dela's mouth twitched, as if she wanted to smirk or smile, but was stilled just as quickly as it had moved.

"Hello," she said uncertainly.

"Listen, Bautista, we don't talk much—"

"You're right, we don't," she agreed. "Which is why I thought it was a bit rude that you'd thrown a ball of parchment at me in Charms."

Her tone was even, calm. There might've been a hint of playfulness in it, if James had listened hard enough, but he took it for face value and instead believed an apology was being asked for.

"Oh, sorry about that, Bautista," he said, smiling sheepishly. "It was totally on purpose, but you're a good sport about it, yeah?"

James had been told, many times by his mother, that he had a very naughty smile. She said that it was so warm that it sometimes made her forget that she was be mad at him, because why on Earth would she ever be upset with such a sweet face?

James knew his mother was a very wise woman, and hoped to Merlin and Morgana that she was right.

Dela cocked her head at an angle and blinked. But, just as James had hoped, the smallest of smiles crept upon her mouth.

"'Course," she said.

James silently thanked Merlin, his mother, his father, and Morgana for his good looks.

"So, about Charms—what'd you mean by your note?"

"My note?"

"Yeah, the parchment that I threw at you and you turned into a little hummingbird—pretty cool, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Dela's smile widened enough to show the top row of her teeth, which were straight, square, and white. Despite her tan complexion, James saw rosé bloom across her cheeks; in that moment, he was struck by how pretty she was, and wondered how he hadn't noticed before.

Well, maybe because he'd never seen her more emotional than a close-mouthed smile prior to this conversation. And people were always more attractive when they smiled.

"Yeah, it was a little weird," James laughed. "It flew straight at me and hit me in the forehead—I deserved it—but what did you mean by what you wrote? _Why are you like this_?"

"Feelings hurt, Potter?"

Dela's smile was widening even more, and James had to keep himself from looking around wildly. There was no way he was the only one noticing this right now.

"Of course," he scoffed, putting a hand to his chest. "Whatever did you mean by that? Were you comparing me to a hummingbird?"

"Not at all. I just questioned your parchment wasting habits—Lily hates that, you know."

James felt himself pale considerably. He had not known that. In fact, he began to analyze—and then overanalyze—his favorite hobby. How _much_ parchment had he wasted, exactly? It only felt like one or two pieces in Charms, but what if it'd been more?

Who cleaned up his mess afterwards? Did Flitwick?

Did _Lily_?

He was absolutely mortified.

Dela must have noticed his physical reaction to that realization, for she giggled and punched James in the shoulder lightly. "Oi. I'm pulling your wand, Potter. She does hate the waste, but everything you do annoys her." She paused, wrinkling her nose. "That doesn't sound any better, does it?"

Slightly over his shock, James shook his head with a rueful smile.

"Ah, bugger," she teased. " _Oh_ —my name's Dela, by the way. Since we seem to be on a strictly last name basis."

"I knew your first name, don't worry," James winked.

For all the stress she caused him in the very short period of time they'd been conversing, James hoped that his wink made her heart flutter a little bit. Not because he fancied Dela; Lily Marie Evans was still his number one priority. Because he thought Dela was cool, but he didn't know how to hang on to female friends other than to flirt with them.


	2. II Teacher's Pet

_A/N:_ Five reviews would be greatly appreciated! :)

* * *

 _Mid-October 1975_

James didn't understand the hype behind Professor Edmund Galen.

Sure, he was a cool enough bloke. Appreciated a good prank or two every once in a while. Huge fan of Puddlemere United. Galen was relatable. Or, tried to be, at least.

He was a Hogwarts alum—graduated in the top ten percent of his year in Ravenclaw—and capitalized on all the Hogwarts jokes he could possibly make. He was young, too; about twenty-one or twenty-two, so his jokes weren't that funny. More awkward than anything else.

But that didn't stop every girl (and a few blokes) at Hogwarts from swooning over him.

He couldn't speak for everyone, but James figured it must be that fact that Galen looked like the 'ideal hunky wizard' featured in every Witch Weekly ever produced.

Tall. Dark, wavy hair. Hazel eyes. Sharp jawline.

Someone once said Galen looked like he could be James's older brother, and James had been insulted until Remus mentioned off-handedly that _he'd_ heard Lily mention how handsome their Defense professor was.

So maybe it wasn't _so_ bad.

"Now, I am quite pleased with all of your marks on this past quiz—you all had the highest number of Os out of all my classes." Galen was beaming as he waved his impossibly long wand (something the older girls liked to giggle about constantly) to pass out their quizzes. James's landed gently on top of his desk. As he expected, a calligraphic O was emblazoned at the top.

"However, our next unit is rather diffi— _Odell_!"

Galen's voice changed from professional and instructive to overly pleased in a way that was quite noticeable. James, however, had never heard of anyone named 'Odell' ever going to Hogwarts. He turned 'round to see what had captured his Professor's attention and suddenly understood.

"Hullo, Professor." Dela greeted him politely.

 _Oh, Del!_ _Not_ 'Odell'.

James noticed, with an odd sense of satisfaction, that she did not smile wide enough to show her teeth.

Dela carried a high stack of bound parchment booklets. "These are from Professor McGonagall. They're essay books for practice N.E.W.T's?"

"Ah, yes, thank you, Del," Galen said, relieving her of her load with the flick of his wrist. "Hopefully you all will be taking this in a couple of years, yes?"

Galen's smile was dazzling, but all James could think about weird it was for his professor to have a nickname for a student. Or how odd it was that a grown man sounded so unnaturally happy to see her.

"Do you need a pass, love?" Galen summoned a quill and a scrap of parchment in case Dela did.

"Oh, I'd positively _die_ if he called me that!" whispered a Hufflepuff who sat behind James.

"I'm good, Professor. Professor McGonagall knows I'll be back quickly," Dela assured him. "Thank you, though." She finally noticed James and waved at her new friend. James grinned back.

"Of course, Del. I'll see you soon," the young professor beamed. James rolled his eyes as half the class audibly sighed. As she left, Dela managed to catch it and giggled.

"Where were we? Oh! Next unit. Because we've finished up Protective Charms..."

* * *

Remus Lupin thought Dela Bautista was stunning.

Almond shaped doe eyes. Tan skin. Petite, straight bridged nose with slightly wide nostrils. Full lips she bit carmine. High cheekbones.

But if Sirius or James or even Peter asked him who he fancied, he'd never describe Dela like that _out loud_.

It was so specific it was borderline obsessive.

Remus liked to think he was just observant. Because they were both Prefects, they spent a lot of time together on patrol and making sure the first years didn't kill themselves in the castle. And they'd grown to be quite close over the summer, something quite rare of Prefects that had not known each other before.

Normally, you found out the identity of your fellow Prefect on the train. Professor McGonagall had done something odd.

She'd added a postscript to the end of the facsimiled Prefects' letter: _Dela Bautista_.

Remus assumed the Head of House had done the same for Dela, as P.S. Remus Lupin, since he received a letter from a great horned owl only hours later. Good thing, too, considering he had no idea how to contact her prior.

Through constant correspondence, they spoke through the rest of summer.

Dela was understanding. Funny. Analytical. Intelligent. They talked about how they'd been in the same House, eaten at the same table, and studied in the same Common Room for four years (going on five) without ever getting to really know each other.

Remus had been very, very worried for when school would begin again. As if the arrival of September 1st would signal the erasure of their friendship.

He couldn't say anything to Peter; the poor bloke was actually quite scared of Dela, but that may have been due to the fact Dela was a girl and not that Dela was scary. Remus considered telling Sirius, but that idea was quickly shot down, too. Although he loved him like a brother, Sirius was ridiculously charming. Remus didn't want to risk anything. He nearly told James about his newfound friendship, but figured he'd react halfway between Peter and Sirius: suspicious of this girl who had quickly gained Remus's trust, and would soon enthrall said girl with his good looks and charisma.

No. Remus had to keep Dela to himself like she was a precious secret. And he did everything in his power to make sure they stayed friends: they spoke of everything and anything that came to mind. Except, of course, Remus's furry little problem.

"Remus?"

Remus looked up from his thoughts. "Yes, James?"

"Why do you look like you're about to shit yourself?"

It was a good thing they were alone in the Common Room; a rare thing, for if they'd had an audience Remus would have done more than just rolled his eyes. "Git."

His dark haired friend grinned. "No, but really: what's on your mind? Homework? Test?" In a quieter, conspiratorial voice: "Girl?"

The more reserved of the two felt himself color.

"Charms homework. Got loads of it," Remus lied smoothly. James's expression evened to a smaller, less mischievous smile.

"Oh. Alright then." After a pause, he said, "Remus, d'you know—wait, scratch that, of course you do—Dela. Dela Bautista. Our year."

Lupin hoped that the deepening blush would still go unnoticed by his usually oblivious best friend.

"Yes. She's the girl Prefect. We go on patrol sometimes. I've told you about her, haven't I?" To sound less suspicious, he added, "She docks points when I'm too soft on the first years."

"Yeah. That one," James agreed. "She's cool, don't you think? I mean, I threw a wad of parchment at her in Charms today because I'd thought it'd be a laugh—"

"Right."

"—because I'd always thought she was emotionless, y'know? And it would've been a surprise if she'd thrown or fit or something, Evans was so ready to watch it happen, her eyes were so big and when she looked at me—" (James was glowing)

"—anyways, it turns out Dela wrote a note right back to me and charmed it to be a hummingbird—"

Remus's breath hitched in his throat. "—oh?"

"—and I was insulted, of course, so we talked again in History of Magic and I tried to chat her up a little, y'know?"

A pause.

"Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, good, you're still listening," James teased his friend, knocking a rather stiff Remus in the shoulder. "Anyways, she doesn't react like any other girl. She kinda laughed it off but that was it."

Remus often wondered how James Potter could take without seeming to take a single breath.

"Dela's cool, Remus. We should get to know her better. You, me, Peter, Sirius."

"Mhmm."

An ugly jealousy rose in Remus's chest, then. It was angry and possessive, and he had felt it only a few times in his life. Either way, Remus knew he would rather let Peter sleep in the same room as Dela than let Sirius or James within ten feet of her.

* * *

It was nearly impossible that in all four (now going on five) years of attending Hogwarts that James Potter happened to ignore whom Lily Evans hung out with on a daily basis.

The odds were very slim.

That, or James was more oblivious (or more stupid) than Lily thought.

Not that she'd ever give him credit for being anything other than a bigheaded toerag, of course.

"Lily?"

"Mhmm?"

"Why did you get five sprigs of asphodel for the sleeping draught? I got seven."

That did not sound right to Lily Evans, Potions Princess. She leaned over to peer at her friend's paper, causing Dela's bed to whine from the sudden weight shift. "Really? Let me see your calculations."

Lily Evans and Dela Bautista often did their Potions homework together before Dela had to leave for patrol. Dela was competent enough in Potions that Professor Slughorn often hinted that she would be welcome at Slug Club dinners, but not at all at Lily's level.

The redhead thought Potions was an odd sort of muggle Chemistry. To be truly successful, it required a lot of attention to detail and a surprising amount of arithmetic calculations. Lily Evans was both extremely observant and gifted with muggle arithmetic.

Dela, however, was absolute rubbish at certain types of maths, which is one of the reasons why she and Lily had become friends in the first place.

"Oh—I see what you did here. You didn't account for the length of time the dosage required, so—wait, actually—"

Before Lily could admit, out loud, that Dela's answer was actually correct and hers was wrong, Dela shot up out of her bed so quickly she nearly sent the other Gryffindor sliding off.

"Shit, I should get going," Dela swore. As she gathered her things, she said, "Will you open the door for me when I get back? I don't like waking up Alice or Marlene—"

"Of course, love," Lily assured her. The endearment made Dela's heart swell, and she smiled gratefully.

"Thank you."

* * *

Apparently, _both_ Emma Rawlins and Henry Fitzgerald trusted Remus Lupin and Dela Bautista enough to patrol together for the night.

"Or maybe Rawlins and Fitzgerald are trying to prove to each other they're both deserving of their titles of _Head_ Boy and _Head_ Girl," Dela leered, waggling her eyebrows.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" Remus laughed. All in jest, of course; it's not like he hadn't been thinking of it, too.

"You love it, though," Dela responded cheekily, the accompanying sly wink sending Remus's heart into somersaults.

They, like the other Prefects, had been given the patrol rundown: be quiet, quick, and thorough. Don't disturb the paintings' sleep. If you catch people out of bed, deduct few points quietly and send them back. If you catch people out of bed doing things that are normally done _in_ bed, deduct few points quietly and send them back and do not, under any circumstances, gossip about it. (Unless you're with fellow Prefects. Then gossip all you want). Be back in your Common Room before midnight.

Tonight, Dela and Remus were assigned to the corridors just beyond Hufflepuff Tower. It was one of the quieter areas of the castle and the easiest to patrol. Very few Hufflepuffs got out of bed at the middle of the night and many followed the rules.

Dela and Remus walked in a silence made comfortable by their closeness.

"Lupin?" Dela whispered, so as not to awaken the portrait of King Charlemagne as they passed him.

"Yes, Dela?"

"Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?"

The lit tips of their wands illuminated the bright white but mischievous smile Dela wore.

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Remus intoned mock-sadly. He shone his wand within the corners of a doorway to make sure it was locked.

"What do you take me for?" the girl scoffed, offended but still smiling. "A common—"

The grin suddenly slid off her face, replaced by a frown.

"Do you hear that, Remus?"

"No, what do you—"

Then he did.

At first, the sounds coming from behind the closed classroom door were terrifying. No human sounded like that, right?

Then it took Remus exactly one point one seconds to understand that yes, humans did sound like that.

Especially female humans.

All the color returned to his face, but not out of relief. More out of embarrassed realization than anything else.

But Lupin was too late. In the same amount of time he had been able to put context clues together, the fearless and careless Dela had strode two meters to the source of the noise and all but blasted the door open. Remus hadn't even had time to warn her; he could only follow closely behind.

"Merlin's balls!"

Emma Rawlins screeched, pushing away a dark-haired head away from her lap and scrambling to get off an old teacher's desk.

Her normally neat, brown hair was ruffled and wild and she raked her fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. The dark haired boy with her, tall and broad-shouldered, had slowly risen from his kneeling position in front of Emma. He did not need to turn around for both Remus and Dela to know that he was _not_ Henry Fitzgerald.

Dela, for one, had no idea what to think, other than the fact that she was glad both were clothed.

(Save for Emma hurrying to pull up her knickers.)

"Oh, Morgana, I'm so sorry," Emma wailed in a whisper-shout. "I am so _stupid_ —"

Remus glanced at Dela and wasn't sure if his friend wanted to laugh at or agree with Emma. Either way, she was in no position to say anything that could possibly better the situation.

"Er, Emma, it's alright, we won't tell Henry—"

"Forget Henry, Remus," Emma snapped, seeming to yank on her own hair in frustration. "He won't snitch. _You_ , on the other hand—"

For a moment, Remus thought Emma's anger had turned on him and was thoroughly confused.

Until he realized the Head Girl was talking to the other boy. He turned around and Remus wasn't sure if _he_ wanted to die on the spot or kill the other one out of sheer embarrassment.

"What, love? I don't kiss and tell."

Sirius Black licked his lips wolfishly, as if trying to bring back the taste of…whatever he'd been doing before. He glanced at Dela, but recognized her almost immediately and returned his gaze to the older girl.

"I can't be completely sure of that," Emma responded curtly. "I deduct fifty points out of my own House of Ravenclaw. Remus, deduct twenty-five from Gryffindor."

"Oh, Rawlins, was it _that_ bad?" Sirius purred. "It surely didn't _sound_ that way, and I think Lupin here can—"

" _Don't_ make it equal to mine," Emma growled.

"You're wonderfully vicious," Sirius teased, reaching a hand out to fondle Emma underneath her skirt.

"Remus!" the Head Girl all but shouted, forcing herself to move out of Sirius's reach.

"Emma, I don't think there should be any point deduction from either House, considering the circumstances and the hour at which—"

" _Exactly_ , Moony," Sirius crooned. To Emma, he said, "D'you reckon I might be considered _Head_ Boy now?"

"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor."

" _THANK YOU, DELA_!" Emma said, enormously exasperated. She narrowed her eyes at both Remus and Sirius, regarding them venomously. She stood, just staring at them.

Slowly, "This does not get out to anyone, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mhmm."

"Good." Emma nodded. "Off to bed. All three of you."

No longer pushing his chances, Sirius nodded respectfully and was the first to exit.

"Goodnight, Emma. Sirius," Dela responded in a voice like steel.

Softer (but still as soft as iron), "Goodnight, Remus."

* * *

The next morning James plopped himself down next to Remus. It shook the bench and their part of the table, causing Peter's glass of pumpkin juice to shake and Sirius's plate of eggs and bangers to wobble. James's mouth was stretched into the thinnest line possible. In fact, it may have rivaled Minerva McGonagall's in severity.

And his normally warm hazel eyes were _murderous_.

"I saw the hourglasses this morning."

Chewing and morning chatter.

Peter Pettigrew took a small sip of pumpkin juice and cut himself a piece of sausage.

"Gryffindor's looked noticeably less… _full_ …today."

Sirius Black's immaculate posture did not falter, even as he sliced his poached egg into little pieces and somehow one fell to the floor.

"Does anyone know why?"

Remus Lupin stared at his buttered toast. The orange marmalade was on James's side of the table, but he didn't want to ask his best friend for it when he was in such a horrible mood.

Remus glanced at the end of the House table and saw Dela daintily eating a yogurt parfait. He knew she could sense when she was being watched, but Dela did not acknowledge Remus.

Irritated with his friends' silence, James huffed.

"You know, I'm going to _kill_ the wanker that's already screwing with Gryffindor's chance at the House Cup this year."


	3. III The Aftermath

_Mid-October 1975_

James Potter wasn't a huge fan of getting to class early.

He liked to savor the ten minutes allotted to class changes, maybe nick food from a wonderfully foolish Third Year, finish up assignments in between classes because they were usually due the next period.

But this year had a different air about it. More serious, perhaps. A new sort of urgency.

Whatever it was, the newly hollowed out Gryffindor Hourglass was definitely a marker of it. James Potter promised—mind you, to no one in particular—that he would change something about his behavior.

Is this what _maturity_ felt like?

The dark haired boy shuddered at the thought.

James expected Charms to be empty—weren't all classrooms just two minutes before the actual class began?—but none other than Dela Bautista sat upon a desk, arms crossed and smirking. Seventh Year Derrick Boughery leaned towards her in a way that James could only describe as wolfish.

"So you _will_ watch me play against Ravenclaw, won't you, Del?"

James didn't know what to think.

Boughery himself was cool enough. As Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain, he was his House's pride and joy. Derrick was fair and kind, but a killer Keeper on the pitch. James admired him in that aspect.

What was less admirable of him, though, was the way he treated birds.

But one must understand how Boughery looked. He was thick with muscle, towering over others at six foot two, and rugged with slight stubble and a thin scar running from his left ear to his cut jawline. James vaguely recalled Remus explaining that girls were biologically programmed to be attracted to men that looked like Derrick Boughery, at which Sirius had laughed and Peter had still not understood, but it was true. Derrick Boughery looked like a man in his early twenties and it drove Hogwarts girls wild. And like anyone with that kind of power, he took advantage of it.

James would've likened it to Sirius's behavior, but…not quite. There were still those flirty mannerisms all good-looking boys had: the notes in class, the mischievous giggles in the library, etcetera. Yet Derrick Boughery regarded girls with a predatory look in his eyes that made James uneasy. While he'd never heard of Boughery hurting anyone, there was something so feral about it that it made James worry.

Oddly enough, that feral quality was currently being reflected in Dela's eyes.

"Depends, Boughery. Will you win for me?"

"Oh, you wound me, Del!" Derrick grinned, grabbing his chest with both hands. "But will it persuade you to go if I do?"

"Maybe." Dela smirked.

Derrick was pleased. "Sounds like a date then. Catch you later, Del."

With that, Derrick Summoned his bag and practically pranced out of the room.

James half expected Boughery to do a little jig.

Weird.

James didn't realize he'd been staring after Derrick until he turned to see Dela, genuinely smiling with her teeth showing.

"Want an apple, Potter?"

"Uh, sure," he said. Dela hopped off the desk, skirt flouncing a little, and reached into her leather shoulder bag. She dug around for a little bit before producing a rather large, dark red apple the size of her two fists put together.

"Think fast!"

James caught it. He rubbed it with his shirt sleeve, and took a loud bite out of it.

He savored its sweetness—wow, apples were really fantastic, why didn't get he some more often during—

"Can you imagine getting fucked by a bloke that size?"

James was so surprised by the question he choked on the piece of apple in his mouth. He coughed, pounding on his chest to dislodge. When his fit subsided, he turned back to a rosé Dela.

"Sorry, that was vulgar of me," she smiled sheepishly.

James was still so stunned he didn't answer.

"Just—things come out of my mouth and I forget my audience—but—okay, this sounds _really_ weird, but do you know what I mean? Like, doesn't it just _look_ weird? When you see huge blokes with girls my size? You would think they would just break with the sheer force of the—"

Thankfully, Dela stopped herself, which allowed James a few careful words.

"You're odd, Bautista," he said. "I kind of like it, though."

She snorted. "Ah, yes. We've spoken a grand total of two times—once during History of Magic last week and now—and you've discovered that I'm inappropriate…but you like it."

Dela flung her arms into the air. "How's that for new friends!"

"Well, I mean, before I thought you were an emotionless stiff, so it's a welcome change—"

"You're odd, James Potter," Dela interrupted, but sounding absolutely fascinated. "Will you sit with me today? It gets lonely up here with everyone else fallen asleep."

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of James's mouth. "I usually throw stuff at people in this class."

Dela rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you rather learn more about the emotionless stiff?"

She did have a good point.

* * *

Halfway into the lesson, James slipped Dela a note. He nudged her to catch her attention.

 **'Evans keeps glaring at you. Did you do something wrong?'**

Dela finished the last sentence of her notes before she glanced at it. Her dark eyes scanned the slip of parchment before she snatched it up and responded.

 _'She's been my friend since second year when she realized I was rubbish at Potions. Maybe she's glaring at you.'_

"Why?" James whispered, too afraid and too eager for an answer to bother with a note.

"Because you're James Potter," Dela whispered back.

Said Potter pulled a face, and, not knowing what else to do, wrote another note on a separate piece of parchment.

 **'Why was Derrick Boughery chatting you up before this class?'**

Dela colored rosé again before she wrote one back.

 _'Thought I could regain some House points back if Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw in the next match. Better Hufflepuff than Ravenclaw, you know.'_

James's quill was quick.

 **'So you promised Derrick Boughery you would watch the match?'**

Dela rolled her eyes, motioning for the parchment so she could respond.

 _'I work in mysterious ways.'_

James stifled a laugh. Then it dawned on him—

 **'Hang on. You know something about our House points reduction from last week?'**

Dela just stared at the note before reaching for her quill.

 _'Yes.'_

 **'What happened?'**

 _'A Gryffindor got caught out of bed. Head Girl wasn't happy.'_

 **'But twenty-five points?'**

 _'Emma can be moody.'_

 _ **'**_ **But** _ **twenty-five points!'**_

 _'A Quidditch match will compensate.'_

Dela was being so ridiculously vague that James realized it was because she knew more than she let on.

 **'Tell me who it was.'**

 _'Why?'_

 **'Because.'**

 _'Why?'_

 **'Why not?'**

 _'It's not a big deal.'_

 **'If it really wasn't you would tell me.'**

 _'Well it really **isn't** a big deal.'_

 **'Then tell me.'**

 _'Why's it so important to you?'_

 **'Why did we have to lose twenty-five points over it?'**

 _'Emma's moody.'_

 **'You already said that.'**

 _'That's the truth.'_

 **'Was she the one who took off points?'**

Dela saw the note but didn't reach for it to answer.

 **'Was she the one who took off points?'**

James practically snatched the parchment and scribbled angrily.

 **'She wasn't. It was you.'**

Resentment began to grow within James.

 **'You're the one who took off points from your own House.'**

James thought he saw panic—or was it guilt?—in Dela's eyes before it disappeared again.

 _'What makes you say that?'_

 **'You keep avoiding a simple question.'**

 _'It **really** isn't that important, James.'_

 _ **'Then tell me.'**_

 _'No. That's my final answer.'_

 **'But why?'**

"Ugh!" Dela groaned. A little too loudly, for Flitwick stopped teaching and sassily put both hands on his hip and raised both eyebrows.

"Is something particularly frustrating about my teaching, Miss Bautista, or would you like to take over?" he asked indignantly.

"Sorry, Professor," Dela said. "I realized I forgot a few quills in my room."

Flitwick hmm'd but returned to teaching. "Barring any other interruptions…"

Dela sunk into her seat. The exchange really _had_ been nothing, but James could see the other girl was so embarrassed she looked on the verge of tears.

He felt awkward. After a moment, he said, "Hey…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," she said curtly. "Just—if you want to know so bad, ask Remus." She paused. "Better yet, ask Sirius Black."

Dela practically spit the last two words.

James wanted to ask more questions, and opened his mouth to start—then closed it again when the dark-haired girl shifted slightly away from him, taking notes with her lips pressed into an impossibly thin line.

* * *

She didn't care what anyone else thought. Madam Pince was probably one of the _most_ intelligent witches residing in Hogwarts Castle—

"Mind your head, Miss Bautista, before the heaviest books knock you out of your daydreams!"

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Dela mumbled, replacing an empty book space with the second volume of _Deirdre's Deluxe Recipes for a Broken Heart_ before adjusting her footing on the librarian ladder.

Sure. One of the most intelligent witches residing in Hogwarts Castle was also one of the most severe women to ever grace its halls.

But Dela welcomed that discipline, for the last two weeks had been a time. The Incident with Gemma, Remus, and Sirius Black, which had triggered memories of The Other Incident involving Sirius Black only. Then the note from James, which resulted in a tentative friendship she'd most likely already ruined in a manner of two days.

 _How wonderful. And it was only October!_

Thusly, she was here.

The library was where she went for solace. Madam Pince let her return the books to their proper shelves—even in the Restricted Section, which she reveled in—and it was good, repetitive work for a mind full of chaos.

There were books, peace, and quiet.

"Damn it, Sirius, stop it!"

Well, usually.

Dela tapped the side of the ladder with her wand. It slid to the right, knowing she wanted to go to the source of the noise.

This side of the library was usually empty, but this time two people occupied it. Dela couldn't see either of their faces, but the one whose back was turned had long, brown hair and a stereotypically Ravenclaw blue headband keeping back that hair.

And at that girl's neck was an easily recognizable head of dark waves, bobbing up and down.

It didn't take long for Dela to figure out what was happening.

 _Bloody fantastic!_ Dela thought to herself. _How is it that in the past month I've caught Emma Rawlins and Sirius Black together twice?_

Did she clear her throat?

No, because that would imply she'd been watching for quite some time—which wasn't that far from the truth, but it was so obviously intimate it would be _weird_ —

Did she snitch?

Not that, either, because she knew what it'd been like to get…"found out"…and it was not something she'd like to pass on to someone else—

Did she tell Madam Pi—

No. Absolutely not. That would, quite possibly, be the worst thing Dela could do. Hands down.

But before she'd figured out her plan of action, the dark haired head extricated itself from the Head Girl's neck.

Sirius Black's silver-blue eyes caught Dela's dark ones and both Gryffindors' eyes locked.

For how long, though, Dela couldn't recall; she returned to her place behind the bookshelves almost immediately.

* * *

"Remus?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you help me with Transfiguration homework?"

"Sure, James," Remus mumbled. "Just let me finish this last chapter, I'm almost finished with the—"

"James? Are you trying to flatter or insult me, Lupin?"

"What? I don't—" Remus finally looked up from his book to see a pouting Dela Bautista, clad in red and gold plaid pajama pants and a white tank top. His eyes lingered a tad too long on her chest. Dela had seemed to go through a sort of fast-forwarded puberty, gaining her womanly shape a year prior. That had lead Remus to having dreams so vivid he'd been too embarrassed to even look at her the next day.

Dela, however, did not notice. " _Ulysses_? By the Muggle author James Joyce?"

She strode forward, all but dropping her Transfiguration homework and quill to examine the Muggle book. "I've heard it's horrible but in a good way. Your thoughts?"

As Dela pored over the book, she settled into the armrest of the plush chair. She was so close that if she moved five inches she'd be in Remus's lap.

The fair-haired boy felt his pulse quicken ever so slightly.

"I started it yesterday but I'm only on the second chapter," he responded, instinctively raking a hand through his hair. Dela nodded, maybe only half-listening. Her dark eyes moved left-right-left-right-left-right, quickly absorbing the stream-of-consciousness nonsense.

"As for what I think…it truly is horrible. I'm waiting for the good part."

Dela giggled, and she turned to look at Remus through her lashes.

Remus thought that kind of thing should be illegal, considering what it did to boys like him.

"Oh, sorry, the bit about your book was a total _non sequitur_ ," Dela groaned, ruining it completely. "The Transfiguration homework. Could you explain it to me? I…was a bad student and didn't listen fully." She paused, biting her lip that spectacular shade of carmine again. "I-I have my notes, so I won't mooch, but I just don't understand what I wrote…"

She was looking at him with the most pleading expression and the sheepish smile that Remus had a sneaking suspicion Dela knew he saw her as more than a friend.

Who else would you look at like that with that kind of eyes?

An acquaintance?

Clearly not.

"'Course I'll help you, Del," Remus said, perhaps sealing his fate. "Let's move over to those tables over there."

Dela lit up. "You're bloody fantastic. I'd bother Lily about it but she already fell asleep," she rambled. She picked up her homework and quill, following Remus to the study tables. From within the textbook Dela produced her notes, Remus sat next to her, and he basically retaught her the lesson.

She nodded, asked questions, made inappropriate jokes that had no place in the rather sobering topic of the Transfiguration of deceased organic material—not to be practiced by Fifth Years, or anyone for that matter, which was why the homework was theory-based and not practical spellwork.

About halfway through, Remus Lupin finally realized he had it bad. Even worse, he wasn't sure if he wanted to do anything about it, either.


End file.
